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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633608">Spirit of Lyoko</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mark_Twayne/pseuds/Mark_Twayne'>Mark_Twayne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Code Lyoko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Post-Canon, Ten year gap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:03:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mark_Twayne/pseuds/Mark_Twayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years have passed since the Lyoko Warriors shut down the supercomputer, and now, when a new family moves into Aelita's old home, the Hermitage, the long-held secrets of Lyoko and XANA resurface, prompting a new generation to take over the long and wearing fight.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spirit of Lyoko</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, all! Many of you may already know me from my other story, Code Lyoko: Resurgence. To clarify, this story is entirely separate from Resurgence, and I will be updating both as regularly as I can. I had both ideas earlier in the year, but decided, why only do one? So I'm posting both. I hope you all enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jacques hated the old house. When he had first laid eyes on it, it had been thickly covered with moss and weeds, the paint was faded and peeling, the gates rusty and hanging from their hinges, with the interior a cluttered mess. Several months later, the yard had been cleaned up and the house refurbished, yet his feelings towards it had not altered in the slightest.</p><p>"Cheer up, J!" his father, Arthur Bernard, said brightly, clapping him on the back as he stared up at the building. "Come on, it's not that bad. I guarantee you'll love it. Just give it some time."</p><p>"That's what you said six months ago," Jacques muttered, extracting his luggage from the car and marching inside. The old books, shelves, and the wreckage of past appliances that had littered the floor had been replaced by the Bernards' newly purchased furniture and a superb violet carpet, and the freshly laid tiles unobscured by the carpet gleamed underfoot as he walked, striding up the polished wooden staircase towards his room. He shouldered open the door, entered, and deposited the bags onto his bed; the moving company workers had offered to do it for him, but he had staunchly refused.</p><p>He did not trust his possessions in the care of a few rough-handed strangers who wanted nothing more than to finish the job and move along. He moved to the window and stared outside: there were the men, clad in neat, bright orange shirts with blue tags bearing the company name, unloading the rest of their luggage from the truck. And there were his parents, Mrs. Bernard, with her long brown hair and kind face, and Mr. Bernard, short, curly hair gleaming in the sun, his lined face alight with happiness as he gazed around.</p><p>The forest spread out wide around their house, obscuring the paths that led to the main town, which was a good fifteen minutes' walk away. This was one of the main arguments that he had employed in his determination to dissuade his father from choosing this house, as well as the fact that it would be more expensive to repair it than to simply rent another, but Mr. Bernard wouldn't hear of it.</p><p>Laughing heartily all the while, he had explained that the house had been abandoned for many years, that he was always curious about it, and that its remote location offered privacy. Not to mention that his old school, Kadic Academy, was right around the corner. They had gone to get him registered at the school the other day, and while Mr. Bernard had gazed around at the schoolyard reminiscently, Jacques had remained unimpressed. The school was much smaller than his previous one, Dalton Institute, and much more dingy-looking, with rather unpleasant staff workers. All in all, the best part of the prospect of attending Kadic was the fact that he would at least not have to be a boarder.</p><p>They finished within the hour, and Jacques was mercifully allowed to remain in his room while his parents conversed below. He watched through the recently cleaned window as the truck trundled down the path and was soon swallowed up by the sea of branches.</p><p>Tearing his gaze away from the road, he looked around at the house. It was absolutely beautiful, and he hated it. Despite the splendid view, he simply didn't like the house. Why, he could not explain to himself. Perhaps it was because of the location, planted firmly in the middle of an abandoned stretch of woods teeming with all kinds of wildlife. Or perhaps it was the odd air that lingered around the building; maybe that would explain why it had remained untouched for so long. Jacques couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was plastered in the history of the building. Even the name was strange: the Hermitage.</p><p>His eyes came to rest on the iron door framed in the side of the house that led down into the sewers. Fortunately, his parents had decided that they could do without the acrid smell drifting into the yard from the tunnels, and it was due to be sealed off any time soon.</p><p>He whiled away the next hour unpacking the rest of his luggage and delicately organizing his room. When he had finished rearranging, he went out for a walk in the forest to clear his head. He took a seat under a tree, listening to the sounds of the forest and cursing his life. Soon after, he decided to go back to the house. His parents were still talking in the living room and, not wanting to disturb them, he decided that he would simply check out the sewers, the only part of the house that he had not observed yet. Perhaps if he could find some toxic waste hazard below, he could convince his parents to move, he thought bitterly.</p><p>But the tunnels were quiet. He strode along through the dimly lit passages, his ears full of the scurryings of rats in the distance, the gentle lapping of the murky water. He was just wondering whether he would be able to remember the path back to the house, when he came upon a rusty grille. A set of iron bars protruded from the wall beside him, leading up to some kind of manhole cover.</p><p>Curious, he began to climb. When he had reached the top, he slid open the hatch and peered around cautiously. He had left the forest behind completely. Now, a huge stone bridge met his eyes, leading to an enormous yet desolate-looking factory. Interest suddenly piqued, he climbed out of the hatch fully and emerged onto the bridge. Then, as though following orders, began to move along the bridge. The entrance of the factory had been ripped apart, as though a violent storm had done away with it. The level below was empty, and unusually clean, except for a single elevator that stood against the walls. Several long black ropes extended from the ceiling: Jacques seized one and stumbled for a moment, his eyes closed. He wasn't very fond of heights.</p><p>Hugging the cord as though it was a lifeboat in a storm-tossed ocean, he inched downwards, his eyes still firmly shut. His feet touched the ground and he breathed a sigh of relief. Jacques cast the rope behind him and approached the elevator. Though there was an entire factory spreading out around him, it was the lift that had drawn his attention.</p><p>Unsure whether or not this would even work, he tapped the button, and was surprised when a faint clattering noise reached his ear. The door slid open and, knowing full well that he may just as easily regret this, he slipped into the lift and waited excitedly as it closed and slid downwards. When it had finally stopped and the doors pried open, he gasped aloud. A huge room spread out before him, lit by an odd, silvery-grey light. A massive computer extended from the ceiling into the middle of the room, in front of which stood a revolving chair. He crossed the room very slowly, still gaping around, and sat down.</p><p>Cautiously, Jacques reached out and touched a button. The screen lit up, but then abruptly powered off. Or was it not powered on in the first place? He heaved himself from the chair and began to look around for the power button. He didn't find any, but what he did see was yet another ladder leading into a room below.</p><p>He hurried back to the elevator and pressed it, waiting impatiently as it brought him further down. Unfortunately, what he saw definitely weren't batteries. Massive, pod-like structures rising towards the ceiling, with great bundles of wires protruding from their tops, snaking into the room he had just left. He made a quick mental note to come back to this room later and headed down one more level. The room that presented itself to view next was much colder and dimmer than either before it. As he walked further inside, slowly, majestically, an enormous mainframe emerged from the ground. He knew at once where the power source he was looking for lay. Groping around the edge for a button, he uncovered a lever, and taking a deep breath, he pulled it.</p><p>The entire thing lit up. Jacques climbed back into the elevator and rose to the very first level. The computer had turned on. He flung himself into the seat and began to type. The keyboard was much different than a typical computer's, but after a few minutes he adjusted to it, and the first thing that appeared onscreen was a digital journal.</p><p>Mouth hanging open, Jacques clicked the window and it opened. Several video files swam into view, all of which bore the image of a blond, bespectacled boy about his age on each thumbnail. Avidity rising inside him, he tapped the first video in the series.</p><p>"<em>Diary of Jeremy Belpois, eighth-grade student, Kadic Academy, October ninth </em>. . ."</p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Jacques remained in that swiveling seat for hours, listening to Jeremy Belpois' reports. It was incredible. He had recorded countless videos detailing the long, tedious battle that he and several of his friends, Yumi Ishiyama, Ulrich Stern, Odd Della Robia, and Aelita Stones, had been involved in with a rogue artificial intelligence called XANA, who had tried to enslave the earth through a series of calculated attacks launched by first activating towers on "Lyoko," a virtual world comprised of several different sectors, and which was projected by the very supercomputer that he was sitting before.</p><p>He wanted to switch it off, to believe that this boy was simply crazy, or that he had made the whole thing up for laughs — but a few quick clicks brought up mounds upon mounds of evidence that he had not. That the world really <em>had </em>been in danger countless times from this malevolent virus, and that he and his friends really <em>had</em> stopped them by going to Lyoko to deactivate the infected towers.</p><p>He glanced at his watch and saw that it was around three o'clock by the time he had reached the second to last video file. This one was dated ten years ago, and in it, Jeremy had explained that his group had finally managed to destroy XANA, as well as the group's struggles with shutting down the supercomputer and letting go of Lyoko, and how they finally managed to do it and were now looking forward to a brighter, XANA-free future. Though he did not know these "Lyoko Warriors" personally, Jacques suddenly found himself wishing, upon hearing these words, that they really <em>had</em> found peace in their lives; after all the good they had done for the world, none of which had been publicly recognized, they deserved some rest.</p><p>But if they had achieved it, what was the purpose of the last file? Had Jeremy and the others recorded a final update to explain that they had? It seemed quite unlikely. . . .</p><p>Feeling a little uneasy now, he clicked the video. Jeremy appeared once again, recognizable by his vivid hair and spectacles, but he was older. The video was dated seven years previously, three years after the second to last update.</p><p>"<em>Diary of Jeremy Belpois, June eleventh, Kadic Academy</em> . . ."</p><p>Jeremy's voice, which had remained clear and steady throughout the other updates, was now hoarse, urgent, and Jacques's heart began to beat much faster, wondering what could have happened.</p><p>"<em>I can't stop thinking about it</em>," Jeremy said abruptly. "<em>XANA was supposed to have been destroyed. After much painstaking effort, I developed the necessary tools to carry out the job and Franz Hopper supplied the energy needed to launch it, and though things have remained quiet for all this time, though no new Replikas have surfaced, a part of me can't help but think . . . what if</em>? . . ."</p><p>"<em>I was deeply rooted in the fight against XANA for over two years, much longer if you count those innumerable days we had to relive, and I've studied him, I know him. He's found a way to weasel out of being destroyed many times before; he's spread his influence far across the world. Though I want to believe that our crusade of over two years wasn't in vain, though I want to believe that all the pain and sacrifice we had to endure along the way meant something, though I want to believe that XANA truly is gone . . . there's a chance, however small, that he isn't. And then where would we be</em>?"</p><p>"<em>Nobody knows about this battle except for myself, Ulrich, Aelita, Odd, and Yumi, and we're all moving on to colleges scattered all across the country, so if anything even does happen, we'll be hundreds of miles away from the center of the action</em>.</p><p>"<em>Which is why I've returned for the last time, on the very last day of our final year at Kadic. If what I fear</em> does <em>come to pass, then I have to take precautions for the future</em>. . ."</p><p>"What does he mean?" Jacques murmured, irritated that he had paused at such a crucial point in the video.</p><p>Jeremy took a deep breath and continued. "<em>Aelita and her father, Franz Hopper, are the only known people in possession of the digital powers absolutely necessary to fight against XANA, but after today, both will be entirely indisposed. This does not bode well for a future where XANA could return. So, I took matters into my own hands. Without her knowledge, I scanned Aelita’s digital avatar and wrote a program that would reproduce the data she possessed known as "the Keys to Lyoko," as well as a few other implementations, inside a virtual envelope of my own design. That way, should anyone stumble across this computer and the secrets it holds in the future, they would be able to pick up where we left off if the need arose</em>. . . .</p><p>"<em>I truly hope, for the sake of the Lyoko Warriors, and the entire world, that such a day will never need to pass</em>. . . .</p><p>"<em>This is Jeremy Belpois, graduating student of Kadic Academy, signing off for the final time</em>."</p><p>The video ended. But unlike the others, the screen did not return to the file folder. It redirected to what was obviously the program Jeremy had created should XANA ever resurface, already finished, simply requiring the command to be launched. Jacques's heart was positively pounding now. What should he do? Should he activate it? What would happen if he did? How could he be sure that XANA was truly gone?</p><p>His thoughts swirled violently in his mind, sweat beaded across his forehead. He shouldn't . . . but what if he should? Was there any way to prove it? There hadn't been any extreme disasters recently, to his knowledge. But XANA operated in secret, and he would likely have spent time recovering after nearly being destroyed, wouldn't he?</p><p>He sat quite still for nearly twenty minutes, thinking hard. Then he took a deep breath, hoping against hope that nothing would go wrong and, trusting his instincts, tapped the enter key. A new window suddenly sprang open, obscuring the entire screen, and detailing the image of a virtual humanoid body, with one of Lyoko's towers activated in the background.</p><p>While the image loaded, Jacques stared in awe at the screen. Above the program body was the acronym, M.A.R.I.U.S.</p><p>"<em>Marius</em>?" Jacques breathed.</p><p>A second window popped open, startling him, and a face appeared onscreen, a pale-skinned youth with intricate markings upon his visage, a crown of cotton-white hair, and vivid, violet eyes.</p><p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Belpois, how may I assist you today?"</p>
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